Tag Archives: grace

sweet grace newsletter

Wow!  I knew working for God had its fair share of challenges.  What I didn’t know was just how much I had to learn! I possess about a thimble full of knowledge on technology.  Patience is not always my strong suit, and it shows while I have been sitting on my news for quite a few weeks – while hinting at it in a blog or two.  Today, I am ready to announce that sweet grace ministries is on its baby steps to becoming a real part of my life as well as the life  of my friend, ministry partner, and sister in Christ.  We have prayed for a long time, and now, we are putting in the sweat equity (too bad that wasn’t sweet equity because that would have been awesome) to put the hands and feet and ideas (which we have A LOT) to what God has called us to do.

The plan is to provide uplifting talks whether that be small events or whole weekend retreats.  The heart of our ministry is  Real Women~Real Lives~Sweet Grace where we would have the opportunity to share God’s love and grace with everyone by focusing on women.  There really is truth to the old saying, “If momma ain’t happy, nobody’s happy.”

Using our lives’ stories to give back and invest in women, we are hoping that we are small pebbles in God’s pond.  The blessings that we hope to offer can have a rippling effect long after we have shared.  We can also be found at Twitter @RealSweetGrace.

Please check out the link to our new magazine newsletter and I hope to have more similar announcements coming very soon.  Next up: Facebook Page and finishing touches on our website.

http://issuu.com/sweetgrace/docs/magazine_sweet_grace?mode=window

What I want today . . .

Reed70

Last year for my dad’s birthday, we bought tickets to a baseball game for the local boys of summer, Pensacola’s very own – Blue Wahoos.  After a much enjoyed Whataburger and sweet tea (of course) lunch, we headed on down to the stadium – sunscreen in hand.  It was my first Wahoos game at a stadium right on Pensacola Bay.  As we were approaching our section, we noticed two ladies hop up from some seats and two gentlemen in what appeared to be our seats.  After a recheck with the ushers, the ladies that had left and the gentlemen now seated were, in fact, in our seats.  They apologized and moved one section over.  All was great until the ladies (and at this point, I use that term loosely) came back.  One of them announced (well, more like hollered), “You are in OUR seats.”  I politely answered that in fact these were our seats.  I tried to further explain, but was cut off by a woman with her face in mine yelling that she had paid good money for these seats.  I stood up and showed her my tickets as the usher stepped in stopping my mother from bopping her in the head.  The usher showed the two where their husbands were sitting and that they had sat in the wrong section in the first place.  Strangely,  no apologies were uttered.

Sadly, I get her frustration.  She wanted to watch a baseball game on Sunday afternoon, and she was proud of her seats.  I get it.  Did I like being yelled at? Nope.  But in the end, we all got what we came for that day.

Right now, I am feeling a giant passel of wants.  Today, my son, my beloved red-headed boy, should be graduating from high school.  But that isn’t going to happen, because he and three sweet other babes were killed when someone made a choice five years ago.  I knew this day would come, and I am trying to hold it together with the best grace that I can muster.

Here is a current list of my wants –

  • I want to tell everyone that my son is attending Yale. (The university he vowed in 6th grade he would attend.)
  • I want to be going crazy, cleaning and shopping and preparing, for a graduation party.
  • I want my eyes to stop hurting from the tears I have cried this week.
  • I want the pounding in my chest to stop hurting.
  • I want my thoughts to be clear, not insulating me from the pain that is going to come.
  • I want to remind a certain few that I am not apologizing for my emotions. There is and forever will be only one momma to Reed.
  • I want to hug my son today – not just see a gown on a chair where he should be.
  • Lastly and more importantly, I want to tell him just one more time how proud I am of him.

But just like those seats at the stadium, what we want and what we get are often two very different things.  So in the last couple weeks, I have clung – tightly- to the One who has collected each tear of mine in His bottle.   I asked Him to show me where He was in the midst of all of this.  It seems every salinated drop has provided spiritual vision that has opened the eyes to my soul.  In all honesty, my provisions have been great and had I blinked I might have missed:

  • The well wishing to another mom who is doing the crazy planning before I had a chance to feel sorry for myself.
  • The hugs from fellow moms of graduates who have sought me out when I needed them the most.
  • A mailbox flooded with invitations from Reed’s friends for their parties because those tender hearts want us to know we are loved.
  • The mom who held me when I sobbed on the front steps of the church on Sunday.
  • The friend almost a thousand miles away who has texted or called every day – just make sure that I am doing okay.
  • The friends who upon hearing my joke about taking up excessive drinking offered to do so with me – just so they could hear me laugh.
  • A midnight ice cream run with a friend because that can solve most of life’s problems.
  • The mom who gave me a pep talk in the Wal-mart parking lot telling me that each of the graduates who knew Reed well was going to change the world because his presence changed the world.
  • The friends that offered to sit with me at graduation to just to hold my hand and pass me Kleenex.
  • The church that called and asked for me to come and speak this weekend, numbing the empty void of no celebration, but more importantly, reminding me of what He has planned for my life and Reed’s story
  • An e-mail extraordinaire that gave me the strength to get out of bed today.
  • Continuing on in traditions – oh yeah – McDonald’s for breakfast on the last day of school.  We have to go on – even when it hurts.
  • A cell phone battery almost dead before 8:00 am filled with texts of love.

Even though the items on my first list hurt with an ache that I didn’t know was humanly possible, I look at that second list and I can feel God’s touch.  I hear His whisper of love and mercy.  I know that He will be there with His bottle collecting my tears, wiping away each one.  So that one day when I am reunited with Reed and I meet God in person, we are going to walk hand-in-hand to empty that bottle right on into the ocean.

Then I will stand before my Father with hands raised high – praising him for each and every sweet provision, including the chance to be Reed’s momma.   After that, I am going to hug the mess out of my boy!

This song says it all . . .

Just when I thought I was safe

Picture found at www.awayathomemom.com whose blog on this subject made me chuckle.

Picture found at www.awayathomemom.com whose blog on this subject made me chuckle.

I had the honor of speaking to a MOPS group in a town not-so-far from my own this morning.  It was a blessing, bringing joy to my heart with the knowledge that my story of forgiveness touched other lives.  Time and time again, God has used events in my life to teach me about His heart for forgiveness.  Totally unscripted as I stood there before those sweet mommas; I knew how I was to end the talk.

Without forgiveness, mercy and grace are just words. 

It was a great experience, and I am glad I had the chance to go.  But that isn’t what I am choosing to share with y’all.  No, today I am going to share one of those divine appointments that just make you smile.

One my drive to the church, I had drunk a large Coke which didn’t seem to be a problem until I was backing out of the parking lot to head home.  Now here is a serious lesson in pride – something this girl could use some work on.  I was too prideful to scoot back in and ask to use the church’s restroom.  Racking my brain on what was available in Montevideo, I made a bee-line to the mecca of all Southern girls: Wal-mart.

As I entered into the bathroom, I ran into a mom of one of my children’s former classmates.  We hadn’t seen each other in a while, and I don’t think she recognized me at all.  Thus, it wasn’t time for a reunion in the potty department. First, I really had to go, and second, who does that?  Hey!  I know our daughters were not really friends, but your child used to be a classmate of my child.  So nice to see you!  Glad we bumped into each other.  I love what they’ve done with the place.  That probably never really happens.

I soon discovered that this mom wasn’t using the facilities, in the traditional sense.  Nope! Instead of bathroom, it was her conference room. She was having a cell-phone conversation with another one of her children (who apparently made a bad choice at school).  She proceeded to coach the child on what she expected of him; told him, yes in fact, he was in trouble; and explained how he was to apologize the teacher and make better choices for the rest of the day.  She ended with the words all children need to hear: I love you.

Then it came over me, and I knew why God put me in THAT bathroom at THAT very time. Seriously God! I am tinkling here, and you want me to tell that Mom you are proud of her. 

Apparently, her child thought the conversation was over and hung up.  But this mom called back to the school to make sure she connected with the teacher. (This was a good thing because I still needed to wash and dry my hands, and I didn’t want to have to chase her around the rolled-back discounts.)

While she was on hold, I walked right over to her and said, “If no one has told you this in a while, God wants you to know:  YOU are a really good momma.”  I stayed long enough to see tears well up in the corner of her eyes, and then I excused myself.

I keep my eyes and ears open to how I can bless others, but this was new. . . even for me.  So I guess, today I am thanking God for good mommas and full bladders.